


Love at First Fight

by whiskygalore



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bottom Jensen, Community: spn_meanttobe, Graphic Sex, J2 AU, M/M, Minor Violence, Pint-sized Jensen, Schmoop, Younger Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 20:22:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1721378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskygalore/pseuds/whiskygalore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen Ackles was not what department store owner Jared Padalecki expected his newest security guard to look like. He was obviously far too young and, well…not exactly blessed in the height department. Surely there were far more suitable jobs for the pretty young man to be doing. Jared had an opening for a pool boy…</p>
<p>Jensen couldn’t believe his bad luck. Not only had he acted like a blithering idiot in front of the most gorgeous man he’d ever laid eyes on, but that man had just turned out to be his boss. Things surely couldn’t get any worse…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love at First Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for spn_meanttobe 2014
> 
> Original Prompt: Through Thick and Thin
> 
> Lisa Hanrahan was hardly what department store owner Daniel Jefferson Morgan, Jr., had expected. Why would anyone hire the pint-size ragamuffin as a security agent? From the moment she'd told him to get out of her way, he'd been bewitched by her gypsy eyes, but surely there was a safer place for her to work . . .
> 
> Lisa couldn't believe she'd acted like such a blithering idiot in front of her new boss. But she hadn't counted on him being so devastatingly handsome. Why, he'd actually made her blush--she, who had made a career out of cultivating a tough, wise-guy facade! It was humiliating! And what right did he have to think she couldn't handle the job? She'd just have to prove herself indispensable . . . through thick and thin.
> 
> Many thanks to candygramme for the wonderful and incredibly quick beta work and obviously huge thanks to tebtosca for all her hard work in organizing such a fun challenge!
> 
> As saltandburnboys pointed out, the original summary practically begged for Jeffrey Dean Morgan to be our store owner (Daniel Jefferson Morgan - was this a fanfic in a previous life?) but I couldn't resist J2ing it. Please note this is a very AU AU as I have completely messed with Jensen's height and age. It is also unapologetically unrealistic and sugary sweet! I feel like owe my baddie an apology; I'm sure he's utterly adorable in RL but I needed a fall-guy, sorry!

**Part One**

 

Open mouthed and gawping like a dazed guppy, Jared Padalecki stares at his store manager. Anyone passing by would think she's just informed him of some startling piece of news; the sky is in fact green, the pope has converted to Jedi-ism and is currently brandishing a lightsaber on the balcony of the Vatican, or maybe that queues of bears have been spotted outside men's rooms nationwide.  
  
"You've got to be kidding me!"  
  
The withering look she turns on him might make lesser men tremble. Or more sensible ones shut the hell up.  
  
"You're serious?" Jared tries to keep the incredulity out of his voice but, going by the dangerous squint of Genevieve's eyes, doesn't entirely succeed.  
  
"Mr. Padalecki." Gen’s tone immediately makes Jared feel like a child about to be told to sit on the naughty step rather than a stunningly successful, twenty-nine year old businessman. Not to mention Genevieve’s boss. "Mr. Padalecki, am I doing anything at all to indicate that I'm not serious? Do I look like I'm joking, or do I look like you're interrupting me while I'm busy attempting to run your store.  
  
"But Gen - evieve," he quickly tacks on when his best friend's fingers tighten perceptibly around the heavy stapler in her hand. "Really? I mean, the guy's tiny."  
  
"He's five foot seven inches; that's perfectly normal." The fact that Gen knows Jensen Ackles' height means that she's checked, which means she expected to have this conversation or one very like it. And that means that either Jared's predictable or Genevieve is a witch. The latter explanation, now that Jared considers it, would explain a lot.  
  
"He's tiny compared to me."  
  
"You're freakishly tall. Giant redwoods are tiny compared to you." Genevieve throws back at him without even blinking.  
  
"Hey, don't turn this into an exercise in Jared bashing, Miss Cortese."  
  
"Well, don't be sizest in front of your five foot three inch best friend."  
  
"I'm not being... is sizest even a word?"  
  
"It is now."  
  
"Well, I'm not. Your height has nothing to do with how competent you are at your job."  
  
"And neither does Mr. Ackles'." Point to Genevieve for that one, Jared concedes. Silently.  
  
"Maybe not, but you have to admit that he's not the image that immediately springs to mind when you say security guard."  
  
"He's not a security guard; he's your deputy chief of security and why not?"  
  
"Because... because he's tiny." Lame, Jared thinks too late. Lame and poorly considered comeback.  
  
"Jared-"  
  
"And young!"  
  
"He's twenty five."  
  
"No way! Genevieve, he barely looks old enough to buy a beer. He has freckles!"  
  
"Jared, I swear, if you don't get a grip of yourself and stop yelling, my Easter bonus is going to have to consist of much more than a chocolate egg, not even one from our Parisian chocolatier."  
  
Jared grimaces. Genevieve is not one for joking. Not about chocolate and certainly not about bonuses. After his unfortunate incident with Santa's mysteriously naked helper in the outdoor sports and camping department during the Christmas party, Genevieve ended up in possession of a Swarovski encrusted IPhone 5. Remembering the expression on Santa's face when he discovered his elf's mouth wrapped around Jared's candy-cane, he can't say she didn't deserve it. Still, he hasn't done anything too horrific this time.  
  
"You don't get an Easter bonus."  
  
"And I don't get paid to listen to you whine like a baby."  
  
"Well, you kind of do."  
  
"No, I do not." Genevieve snaps, jumping to her feet and stalking around the desk in her four inch heels with murder in her eyes. Jared feels a little like a baby wildebeest standing in the path of a lioness. He gulps hard and tries to take an inconspicuous step backwards when he sees the white-knuckled grip she has on the oversized metal stapler still clutched in her hand. "You pay me to manage your department store. And you know what? It's a damn site easier to do that when you're not here. Now, I have no idea what your problem is with our new security consultant, but I'm telling you; he's a good guy. I like him. I like the changes he's making. Jesus, Jared, Jeff Morgan recommended him and you know Jeff wouldn't do that lightly. If there is some reason, _a valid reason_ , Jared - something other than his age and stature - that causes you to doubt that he can do his job, then please… feel free to enlighten me!"  
  
"He told me to get out of his way." Jared cringes when he realizes how pathetic that sounds, even to his own ears.  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"He pushed me and told me to get of his way." Nope, doesn't sound any better the second time around.  
  
"Were you in his way?" Genevieve asks, rolling her eyes in a way Jared thinks is uncalled for.  
  
"No! Maybe... I thought he was a customer. I was just talking to him."  
  
"And...?" "Genevieve knows him far too well. This is why you should never ever employ your best friend. No matter how much of a business-savvy genius she is.  
  
"I don't know! I might have asked him if he needed any help."  
  
"And then?"  
  
"Offered to measure his inside leg?"  
  
"Jared!"  
  
"We were in the menswear department, in my defense." Jared attempts to placate Genevieve, who appears to be contemplating stapling his balls to her desk.  
  
"God, he's probably filing a sexual harassment complaint as we speak."  
  
"I doubt it. I don't think he even heard; he was too busy watching some guy taking photos with a cellphone before he pushed me out of the way."  
  
"So let me get this straight; our new security consultant was concentrating on doing his job, you sexually harassed him, and now you want to fire him, because he's what...too young? Too short? Because he ignored you?"  
  
"I don't want to fire him!" Jared quickly corrects. God no, he doesn't want to fire the guy. Maybe persuade him to give up this dangerous security guard nonsense and become Jared's personal assistant or maybe live-in pool boy. Jared's dick gives an approving twitch at the thought of that perfectly proportioned little ass in a Speedo. A white Speedo. A wet, see-through, white Speedo.  
  
"Why are you standing in my office yelling, then?" Genevieve demands, yanking Jared out of his happy little fantasy.  
  
"He just... he just doesn't look like he should be working in security. He's hardly Clif, is he?"  
  
"We don't need another Clif, one is more than enough." Gen struggles to suppress a shiver at the very idea. "The updates that Jensen is making to our security procedures are something that Clif should have thought about years ago, and I'm trying not to dwell on the fact that Jensen discovered two staff members defrauding us within a fortnight of working here, when Clif should have spotted it months ago. That man's lucky he still has a job. Look, Jared, you know the insurance company insisted we strengthen our security when you expanded the jewelry department; this guy came recommended and with immaculate references. Just because he isn't built like a tank, doesn't mean that he can't do his job."  
  
"I know, I know. You're right. I just don't think...I mean are you sure he can...what if..."  
  
"What if _what_ , Jared?"  
  
"What if he-" Jared doesn't even know anymore. "He's just so small and, I don't know... fragile looking."  
  
"Oh God, Jared. He's a grown-ass man. He was a-" Gen takes a step back, her eyes widening and a light bulb practically popping up above her head. "You like him!!"  
  
"What?" Jared says quickly, too quickly perhaps. “No I don’t."  
  
“Oh… this is too good.”  
  
“I do not like him, Genevieve. I don't even know him."  
  
"Oh no, don't you deny it. You..." Gen shakes her stapler in his direction, "are smitten."  
  
"I'm not... who even says smitten. Are you turning into your grandmother all of a sudden?"  
  
"You are," Genevieve ignores his deflection. "Seriously smitten. I haven't seen that love-sick puppy expression on your face since Derek Branson in our sophomore year."  
  
"You're insane, completely insane!"  
  
"Whatever," Genevieve singsongs. "I know I'm right."  
  
"Whatever." Jared parrots, immediately regretting it when Genevieve's face lights up with a knowing and, Jared has to say, smug, smile.  
  
"You know it's kinda cute."  
  
"Genevieve!" Jared really wants this conversation to be over.  
  
"I'm just saying… it'd be nice to see you serious about someone again."  
  
"Genevieve, I'm not planning on getting serious with anyone, and definitely not with someone that works for me. Can we please drop the subject?"  
  
"You know, I can talk to him if you want. Ask if he likes you. You can write him a note and I can pass it to him in-"  
  
"Genevieve, you're fired."  
  
Genevieve laughs in his face, but she does at least walk back around her desk, finally unclenching her hand and dropping the stapler as she sits back down.  
  
"Okay, okay. I'll drop the subject but just... don't do anything stupid, okay? If you really like him...like Derek Branson like him, not Santa's little helper like him... then try not to scare him off. When you really want something...someone...you can be a bit..." Gen trails off as she searches for the right word.  
  
"A bit?" Jared nudges, curious despite himself as to where she's heading.  
  
"A bit... enthusiastic. It can be overwhelming."  
  
"Well, thanks very much." Jared says, trying not to sound like he's sulking, which for the record, he's not.  
  
"Oh, don't be like that. Your enthusiasm and tenacity make you _you_. I just mean...get to know the guy before you sweep him off his feet. I get the feeling he's a little shy, maybe more reserved than you're used to."  
  
Jared's suffered enough humiliating dating advice from his friend for one day. "Okay, I get it. I'll try not to scare the poor guy off. Can we maybe move on, please?"

Genevieve at last takes pity on him and drops the subject, flipping swiftly from best friend to business professional. "Sure, we need to go over the projections for the next quarter and discuss the fall promotions."

"Fine." Jared tries to sound interested as he drops into the leather chair across from Gen. Sitting back and stretching out his long legs in front of him, he pretends to listen as she runs through a list of figures and targets. His mind however is miles away, thinking about stunning green eyes, cinnamon freckles and a tight little body that Jared knows would fit perfectly against his own.

  


**_J2J2J2J2J2J2_ **   


  
"It's not funny."  
  
"Yeah, I’m pretty sure it is, man."  
  
Jensen scowls at his room-mate, Steve, who also happens to be the manager of Padalecki's kitchenware department. Unfortunately he does so at the same time as knocking back the remains of his Bud, which turns his fierce glower into more of a cross-eyed duck-face, which just makes Steve laugh even harder, practically folding himself in half on his bar stool as he guffaws like a lunatic. It's not funny, damn it. How was he supposed to know the guy was his boss? No, not just his boss. His boss's boss's boss. The actual goddamn owner of the whole freaking store. He'll be lucky if he's not unemployed tomorrow. Maybe he's unemployed right now, and he just doesn't know it. Jensen takes another long pull from his beer bottle at that depressing thought.  
  
"Come on, man. Stop being such a drama-queen. It's not that bad." Steve's laughter eases off into a calmer chuckle, and he pats Jensen's shoulder in a poor, somewhat late attempt at a show of sympathy. "So, you told your boss to get out of your way, it's hardly the end of the world."  
  
"I made a complete and utter idiot of myself in front of the guy who owns the store; then I pushed him out of my way." Jensen still can't believe it. He had been so focused on the suspicious looking dude taking photographs on his cell-phone that he hadn't even noticed the sales assistant at first.  
  
Well, he'd presumed the guy was a sales assistant. At the time, he’d been standing beside a display of tuxedoes in the menswear department – tuxedoes that Jensen could barely afford to breathe on never mind own - when a lazy Texan drawl had caressed his ear. The deep twang itself was enough to send an appreciative shiver down Jensen's spine, but, when he saw the gorgeous wet-dream it belonged to, all the blood in Jensen's body had flooded directly to his groin, leaving him not only desperately trying to hide his inappropriate boner but flailing to find enough brain power to form words. He was so busy drooling and fighting the inevitable scarlet flush of heat spreading across his face that he missed half of what the gorgeous guy said to him. Either that or he couldn't hear over the hallelujah chorus - or possibly porn soundtrack - that was playing inside his head. What he did hear was the offer of an inside leg measurement, which, combined with a killer dimpled grin and a nearly blinding twinkle in the guy's hazel eyes, was almost enough to send Jensen over the edge of public decency. So what did he do? Like the cool, sophisticated, grown man that he is? He ran away. He'd shoved past the life-ruining Adonis with a snappily barked 'get out of my way' and fled the scene like a scared little rabbit.  
  
"After asking to measure your inside leg, he's lucky you're not suing him for sexual harassment." Danneel says, appearing at Jensen's side and planting a glossy kiss on his cheek before hopping up on the bar stool beside him.  
  
"He's lucky I didn't strip buck naked in the middle of the store and take him up on his offer, more like." Jensen says, slapping his palm across his eyes trying to erase the memories from his head. "He was being friendly. He thought I was a customer."  
  
"He's the richest guy in the state, thanks to his daddy’s money and, like you said, he owns the store. He was not trying to sell you a pair of pants; he was trying to pick you up." Steve states plainly.  
  
"He's rich because he's a brilliant businessman not because of his father." Danneel says, defending the man who pays all their wages. "He doesn't just own this store, you know. He's got businesses interests all over the west coast; that's why he's away so much."  
  
Steve shakes his head, "I'm sure his daddy’s money helped out a bit, but that ain't really the point here."  
  
"No, the point is, the man who pays my salary is a living Greek god with a smile that could melt panties, and he probably thinks I'm an imbecile with an attitude problem."  
  
"It could be worse, Jen."  
  
"Jensen."  
  
"Come on, Jenny, don't be-"  
  
"Call me Jenny again, Steve and your guitar collection is gonna end up as very expensive firewood, and how the hell could it be any worse?" Jensen asks.  
  
Steve raises an eyebrow, opens his mouth and manages nothing more than an unhelpful, 'um'. Shrugging his shoulders, he takes another drink instead.  
  
"Well," Danneel says. "I'm pretty sure he didn't notice the impressive boner you were sporting when you bolted, if that helps."  
  
"Yeah, no." Jensen says welcoming the jolt of pain he feels when his forehead bangs down against the sticky wood of the bar-top.  
  
It looks like this is another job he’s managed to fuck up for himself. His short career in the marines had ended at the ripe old age of twenty-one. Serving your country, it turns out, is damned hard when you're baby-faced, slim built, not particularly tall and - the real kicker - gay.  
  
Picked on from day one of boot-camp, because of his un-impressive size and baby face, he'd endured weeks of bullying, both from fellow recruits and instructors. Jensen, despite his appearance, was tougher than everyone thought though. Running all the extra laps and doing the dozens of push-up never fazed him. Even the inane punishments – and man, potato peeling got real old after a few hours - didn’t bother him too much. What wore him down was the constant name-calling. He loathed having cock-sucker and useless faggot yelled in his face on a daily basis. And he couldn't ever show it. Jensen had survived though. Hiding the hurt as deeply as he’s hidden his sexuality, he’d survived boot-camp and four years of active service.  
  
DADT may finally have been repealed, but it came too late to do Jensen any good. When he'd been caught sucking a barman's cock in a horrific (and completely wasted) moment of bad judgment, his ass had hit the sidewalk almost before he'd zipped up his pants. It hadn't mattered that he could take down someone twice his weight or hit a target with deadly accuracy, and they hadn't cared that he'd patrolled in war-zones before he was old enough to buy himself a drink. It didn't matter that he'd watched a man drop dead just two steps in front of him, head half-obliterated by a sniper's bullet, or seen friends blown up in IED attacks. All that mattered was that Jensen happened to find guys more attractive than girls.  
  
His father, a marine lifer, who'd happily signed Jensen's enlistment papers when Jensen had barely turned seventeen, didn't take the news of his son's discharge well. He'd grudgingly let Jensen move back home, but life in the Ackles household had felt tense to say the least.  
  
It had been his older brother, an officer in the corps, and a son a father could be proud of, who'd given Jensen Jeff Dean Morgan's number. Morgan was an ex-marine who ran a security company with his younger partner Chris Kane. Partner in more ways than one, which explained why Jeff didn't give a shit about the reason behind Jensen's discharge. Jeff had immediately taken Jensen under his wing and, along with Chris, taught him everything they knew. And not just about private security. The three of them had spent one eye-opening and blissful night together that still had Jensen blushing like a virgin every time he thought about it. By the time he left them, he'd put his stint in the marines solidly behind him, had enough work-experience to set him up in a new career, and enough spankbank material to see him through the lonely nights.  
  
Working in a department store may not be most exciting job for someone with Jensen's skillset, but it's a job he enjoys, and also one he’s damn good at.  
  
For once, his youthful appearance is an advantage. He can easily pass for a college student, not something that’s very convenient when buying a beer, but useful for going unnoticed in a store. Nobody expects the kid wearing an X-Men t-shirt, scruffy jeans and listening to music through one ear-bud to be store security. Jensen has an amazing track record at catching shoplifters, and, a few months back, had even successfully foiled an attempted armed robbery. Granted, it'd been as much dumb luck as skill, but, still, he'd managed to disarm the strung-out kid waving about his daddy's pistol before anyone had been hurt, and it looked pretty damn impressive on his C.V.  
  
When the security consultant position at _Padalecki's_ had arisen, Jensen had jumped at the chance. _Padalecki's_ was a privately owned department store; not a store that Jensen could easily afford to shop in, but definitely someplace he wanted to work. The salary was generous, the benefits better than he was used to, and the freedom to improve and strengthen the store security as he saw fit too good an opportunity to pass up. It was also a few thousand miles away from his family home. That one had been the clincher. No more strained family dinners every Sunday, no more disappointed glares from his father, and no more extra servings of pie from his mother to try and make up for his father's behavior.  
  
So yeah, although he does occasionally miss his mother's pie, he loves his new job. He's already made some awesome friends. Steve is a great guy, the faint smell of weed Jensen smells drifting from his room some nights notwithstanding, and Danneel is a pure force of nature. A red-headed firecracker, who, Jensen was completely unsurprised to hear, makes a fortune in commission working in the menswear department. Which is precisely where she witnessed Jensen making a blithering idiot of himself.  
  
When she'd caught up with him later, Danneel had broken the news, much more gleefully than Jensen appreciated, that the guy he'd made an utter fool of himself in front of was not a new sales assistant, but was in fact Jared Padalecki. Jared Padalecki, whom it turns out isn't a balding, middle-aged man in a straining business suit like he'd imagined, but rather looks like he's walked straight out of one of Jensen's late night fantasies; tall, broad shouldered, a full head of thick glossy chestnut hair long enough to tangle your fingers in, and gorgeous almond eyes. He also has an ass to die for, and a bulge in his pants which hints promisingly that he's entirely proportional. And... he's Jensen's boss. Jensen groans and lifts his head from the bar only long enough to order himself another drink.

 

**Part Two**

 

It isn't stalking. Jared owns the building so, technically, what he's doing can't possibly be classified as stalking. He's simply… observing; getting back out there on the sales-floor and talking to his customers. Except, he isn't so much talking to customers as he is avoiding them while he watches his new security consultant at work.  
  
Jensen looks like a college kid dressed in his dad's suit today. His navy pants are just a touch too long almost dragging on the floor, and his jacket hangs loosely over his compact frame instead of molding around his slim body like it should. Unquestionably he’s adorable, but Jared would love to see him in a bespoke suit. He’d bet his last buck that Jensen’s cute little bubble ass would look sensational in a pair of properly fitted pants.  
  
For the past five minutes, Jensen's been chatting to a sales assistant who's attempted every flirting maneuver in the book. The man, who must be pushing forty - far too old for Jensen in Jared's opinion, is that... is that grey in his stupid little beard? - is currently laughing uproariously at whatever Jensen has just said whilst brushing an invisible thread from Jensen's white shirt. Idris Elba; that's his name, Jared recalls, just as Elba smoothly straightens Jensen’s butt-ugly paisley-patterned tie, casually brushing his fingers down Jensen’s chest as he does it. Jared quietly seethes and wonders idly if Mr. Elba would like a transfer to the furnishing department, deep down in the basement where shoplifting isn't an issue.  
  
Jared's doesn't realize how viciously he's grinding his teeth together, until a flash of pain zips through his jaw and down the back of his neck. Pained tears spring to his eyes, and in an effort to ease the eye-watering ache, he stretches his mouth wide open and jiggles his chin from side to side to loosen off the clenched muscles. He's in the middle of this suave move when Jensen suddenly turns around and looks straight at him.  
  
Jared freezes in the beam of those wide eyes for a full second before remembering he's in stealth-mode. Ducking, like a ninja, behind the giant Thor cardboard figure he's lurking beside, he just narrowly avoids wiping out an entire display of Avengers toys. He bends down to retrieve a stray Iron Man figure that hasn't entirely survived their encounter, then nearly has a damn heart-attack when he straightens up and comes face to face with the object of his non-stalking. Well, not so much face to face as Jensen Ackles's face to Jared's chest. That probably shouldn't be a turn-on.  
  
"Mr. Padalecki? Is everything okay?" Instead of demanding to know why Jared is spying on him like some creepy pervert, Jensen honestly looks concerned and Jared thinks, once again, that Jensen Ackles is far too sweet to be a security guard. This thought, and the subsequent image of Jensen throwing in his badge and taking up the lofty position of Jared's pool boy instead, is enough to send Jared's brain off-line.  
  
"Jared. My name's Jared, not Mr. Padalecki. Well, it is Mr. Padalecki I guess, but you should call me Jared because Mr. Padalecki sounds like my dad and he's, you know... old, like Mr. Elba across there with the teeth and the toys and married to my mom. My dad is I mean, not Idris, although he might be married, I'm not sure, he probably is... but definitely not to my mom. And I'm not... married that is, not married to my mom obviously, because that would be gross and eugh... but you know, not married at all because I'm single and -"  
  
Good god damn! Jared thinks, which unfortunately doesn't stop the verbal diarrhea pouring from his mouth. He hasn't rambled this badly since he was a fifteen year old virgin. For some obscure reason though, it's Jensen's face that flushes pink.  
  
"Mr. Padalecki?" Thank the Lord, Jared gratefully takes a breath when Jensen interrupts and finally puts an end to his babbling. Which is possibly contagious because Jensen immediately starts on a ramble of his own. "Sorry, not Mr. Padalecki… Jared, did you... you did just ask me to call you Jared, right? Are you... is everything all right? It's just I noticed you were kind of following me just now, well most of the afternoon really, and I wondered if I'd done something wrong. I mean obviously I did something wrong yesterday, and I'm sorry, I didn't know you were you, I mean I didn't know you were Mr. Padalecki... I mean Jared... my boss and I'm sorry if I was rude yesterday. Of course I was rude. I told you to get out of my way, and I.... anyway, it's just-"  
  
Jared watches Jensen's face turn from a cute shade of pink to a fierce blaze of red that obscures the parade of freckles dancing across the bridge of his nose and across those spectacular cheek bones. He wonders if it would be acceptable to shut Jensen up by kissing him. The tiny Genevieve perched on his shoulder batters him across the ear with a thick copy of the _'Preventing Sexual Harassment in the Workplace'_ manual, and he sadly concedes that she has a point. He decides instead to shove his hand out and start from the beginning, again.  
  
"Hi there, great to meet you. I'm Jared Padalecki, please just call me Jared." He metaphorically crosses his fingers, smiles his most winning smile, showcasing his dimples - they're cute, it's a fact - and hopes that Jensen will take the opportunity to forget yesterday and the past five horrific minutes. Jensen sucks in a sharp breath then exhales slowly, drops his shoulders, which have climbed up somewhere around his ears, and smiles back.  
  
"Jared, it's a pleasure to meet you, Sir. I'm Jensen Ackles, your new security consultant. I'd like to thank you for this opportunity." Jensen reaches out and shakes Jared's hand. The shake firm and confident, despite the obvious disparity in the size of their hands. The spark of electricity that ignites and flares between them when their fingers first brush and their warm palms join together is surely a figment of Jared's imagination.  
  
"Jensen, can I call you Jensen?'' Jared asks politely, receiving an affirmative nod in return. "Jensen, I'm glad you were able to join us. I'm sure you're going to be an invaluable member of our team. Jeff Morgan spoke very highly of you indeed."  
  
Jensen smiles wider at the mention of Jeff, his eyes sparkling even greener and the dying blush across his cheeks flashing warmly again. Jared sternly reminds himself that Morgan is a happily, good-as-married man and refuses to contemplate how strange it is that he's developing a massively possessive streak over a man he barely knows.  
  
"So, Jensen," Jared continues, leading Jensen out of the toy department and away from the looming cardboard figure of Thor and also out of range of Idris Elba's sour glare. "What do you think of my store?"  
  
  
Jared sticks close by Jensen’s side as they meander slowly through the store together. Jensen’s still very much alert, his eyes constantly flickering over their surroundings. Jared's eyes barely leave Jensen, much to the annoyance of the mother of the small boy he almost tramples under his size thirteens. An apologetic smile and a store voucher quickly sorts out that little snafu.  
  
Jensen is a little quiet at first, but then compared to Jared most people are. With a bit of prodding and gentle encouragement he does answer most of Jared's questions, but seems content to let Jared do most of the talking, not something Jared has a problem with. Turning the Padalecki charm up to the max, he lets his Texan drawl run free just to see the way his lazy vowels make Jensen smile. He feels a surge of satisfaction every time he coaxes a laugh from Jensen. Jensen has a glorious laugh that’s surprisingly deep pitched, rising from his belly and making his whole body shake. And he has a stunning smile, dark eyelashes that girls would pay a ransom for and a goddamn sinfully perfect round ass that Jared is struggling to keep himself from groping.  
  
"You're living with Steve?" Jared says, dragging his gaze back up to Jensen's face. That's not a hardship. Jared's sure he's met people with green eyes before, but they all fade into insignificance compared to the pure depth of Jensen's dewy irises. _Dewy irises?_ Jared almost stops dead in his tracks. Who the hell thinks corny shit like that? People whose hearts have apparently grown wings and are fluttering so hard in their chest it feels like they’re trying to escape. That would be Jared then.  
  
"Yeah," Jensen replies, oblivious to Jared's world-shattering realization that he just might be in love. "He's a friend of a friend. We had a few drinks together when I came up for my interview, and he mentioned that he was looking for a room-mate. Perfect timing really."  
  
"Uhuh," agrees Jared, without any enthusiasm. "Isn't that a bit crowded when y'all invite friends over? Y'know girls?" He thinks Jensen is gay. He hopes Jensen is gay. Please let Jensen be gay. Even just a little bit. Even just curious.  
  
"Steve's usually pretty discreet when he brings a girl back."  
  
Yes! Jared grins; at least he knows for sure that Steve and Jensen are simply room-mates and nothing more.  
  
"And," Jensen continues, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "I'm... I'm gay. I hope that's not-"  
  
"That's great," Jared jumps in before Jensen can even raise the question. "That's really great." Jared has an awesome poker-face. He's made millions in business deals; he couldn't do that without possessing nerves of raw steel and an unrivalled poker-face. Now though, he can do nothing to disguise his beaming smile or the enthusiasm in his voice.  
  
"I’m bisexual myself so obviously that's not a problem, not that it ever should be anyway." They're walking up the wide staircase that leads to the jewelry department on the top floor. Jared thinks they have finally salted, burned, and laid to rest their first meeting, and he is slowly but surely building up to asking Jensen out to dinner, in an entirely not sexually harassing manner. He fleetingly considered asking Jensen to marry him but recalled in time Genevieve's warning; some might consider a proposal slightly overwhelming before a first date, he supposes.  
  
“Jensen, do you think… would you maybe like to have-“ is as much as he manages before the shit hits the proverbial fan.  
  
A young guy, almost as tall as Jared, with a neck as thick as a bull's, and the beefy body to match, rushes down the stairs towards them, obviously clutching something in the pocket of his battered leather jacket. Jensen's hand springs up to the earpiece that Jared hadn't even noticed sticking in his left ear, then he steps straight in the path of bull-neck man.  
  
"Excuse me, sir," Jensen says politely as the guy sidesteps him and brushes past. "Sir, I'm store security, if you wouldn't mind stopping for a moment."  
  
It all happens so fast, Jared's head spins. Jensen turns tail and bolts after the guy who is now sprinting down the stairs. Jared can't do anything but give chase, taking the steps two at a time with his long legs, grateful for the stamina gained through his ritualistic early morning runs. The guy appears to know his way around the store. He runs down one flight of stairs then heads through linens and home-wares towards the kitchenware department, dodging displays of muffin tins and casserole dishes before diving through a staff exit that leads to a back staircase. Jensen follows, shouting at the guy to stop. Jared follows, shouting for Jensen to stop.  
  
This staff area, behind-the-scenes, is nothing like the luxurious atmosphere in the rest of the store. It's not carefully designed to create the perfect ambience to seduce paying customers, and now, suddenly, the bare concrete stairways, and harshly lit hallways with shadows lurking around every corner, feel decidedly unfriendly. Jared's never felt this nervous in his own store.  
  
It's strangely quiet too. The soft background music that plays constantly isn't audible here, and the silence only sets Jared further on edge. The only things he can hear are the pounding of heavy footsteps thundering down the stairwell and his own frantic breaths.  
  
The three of them run down the stairs and through the hallways in a precarious game of follow the leader, and it's not until they are yards away from a corridor which leads straight to a fire-exit, that Jensen finally catches up to his prey. He gets his fingertips to the guy's elbow just as Jared sees the guy slide something shiny and metallic from his pocket. Jared's heart drops into his stomach. He yells out a warning that echoes down the empty hallway, reaches out and yanks Jensen backwards by his shoulder. The abrupt stop and change of direction sends the two of them stumbling, crashing into a wall then tumbling to the floor in an untidy tangle of limbs.  
  
In the few seconds that it takes to happen, the other guy disappears around the corner and out of sight. Jensen swears and roughly shoves Jared away from him, climbs to his feet then dashes after bull-neck without even glancing back at Jared. When Jared catches up to him a moment later, he's slamming close the fire exit door and speaking tersely on his cell-phone. Jared's heart is still hammering madly in his chest, adrenalin coursing through his body. Jensen's face is stony, a muscle jumping in his jaw, and a flush rising up his furiously bobbing throat. It doesn't stop Jared from wanting to drag him into his arms and cuddle him until he's satisfied he's in one undamaged piece.  
  
"What were you doing?" Jensen asks, as soon as he shoves his cell back in the pocket of his jacket. "I nearly had him."  
  
"He had a weapon," Jared explains. "He had a knife in his pocket, and he was going to-"  
  
"He didn't have a knife, he had a silver watch that he'd just stolen," Jensen says. He's not shouting but his words are clipped, and he's obviously pissed.  
  
"I saw the knife." Jared is adamant. It was silver and glinting, it was definitely a knife, definitely, for sure, he thinks.  
  
"You don't know what you saw," Jensen shakes his head. "If you hadn't yanked me back, I could have stopped him."  
  
"He could have stabbed you." Jared insists.  
  
"No, Mr. Padalecki, he couldn't have. He didn't have a damn knife. And you know what," Jensen continues, anger turning his clear green eyes dangerously dark. "If he did have a knife, I could have handled it. I'm security, it's my job. You're paying me to protect your store."  
  
"I'm not paying you to throw yourself in harm’s way, though." Jared yells, adrenalin and defensiveness flipping easily to anger. "You aren't supposed to compromise your own safety. That guy was twice your size; he could have killed you, even if he didn't have a knife."  
  
"What?" Jensen asks. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"  
  
Danger, danger a voice squeals in Jared's head, accompanied by frantically blinking warning lights, but it's too late; the words Jared's thinking trip from his tongue regardless. "It means you shouldn't be chasing after men that are big enough to snap you like a goddamn twig."  
  
"You think... what, because I'm smaller than you I can't look after myself?"  
  
Jared doesn't answer because... well yes, that is pretty close to what he thinks, and with a sudden sense of self-preservation that he's sadly lacked until now, he decides not to incriminate himself any further.  
  
His silence is obviously answer enough however, because Jensen explodes, poking Jared in the chest hard enough to leave bruises. "You ass! You fucking asshole. You know who could snap like a goddamn twig? You! I was a marine, Mr. Padalecki. I've taken down men bigger and brighter than you. Why the hell did you hire me if you don't trust me to do my job."  
  
"I didn't hire you, Genevieve did," Jared says automatically, the words already planned and poised in his head, waiting impatiently to be used in his argument as to why Jensen and Jared could date without it affecting Jensen's job. This was maybe not the most opportune time for them to slip out.  
  
"Yeah, well Genevieve can hire someone else now, can't she?" Jensen spits, spinning away from Jared, ripping his earpiece free and throwing it on the floor, before barging out through the fire-exit.  
  
Well shit, thinks Jared, absently rubbing his sore chest, if they salted and burned the memory of their first meeting they might need to do an all-out exorcism after this one.  
  


_**J2J2J2J2J2J2** _

  
  
Storming dramatically out of your place of work may be supremely satisfying for... oh, at least three minutes, Jensen thinks, but then, unfortunately, real-life slaps you in the face like a dead cod. It wasn't, he admits, the best decision he's ever made. Especially as his wallet and apartment-keys are tucked away safely in his locker.  
  
He'd only walked a block, as far as the nearest Starbucks, when he'd realized that not only was he jobless, he was also penniless and locked out of his apartment. Obviously, he's going to have to go back to Padalecki's sooner or later but he can't face it quite yet. He also can't afford a cup of coffee. He ducks out of the coffee-shop, before the barista asks him for his order, and debates what to do next.  
  
First off, well after he clears out his locker and explains to Clif why he won’t be at work tomorrow, he needs to find another job. He's sure Steve won't kick him out of his apartment straight away; they've become surprisingly good friends over the past few weeks, but the guy needs a room-mate to help pay the rent, not a free-loader. One thing he's definitely not doing is heading home with his tail tucked between his legs. He'll take a job in McDonalds first, if they'll even employ a short-assed, discharged marine with possible anger-management issues.  
  
Fucking Jared fucking Padalecki. What a grade-A douche! Jensen kicks a pebble that's unfortunate enough to have rolled into his path, cringing as it dings against a car innocently minding its own business beside the sidewalk. The worst thing is, Jensen scowls as he thinks about it, the absolute tragedy of it all, is that Jensen really liked him. Really, really liked him. Obviously, the guy is gorgeous. The jolt Jensen had felt in his gut as soon as he’d looked into Jared's amber eyes had been pure base lust. But, this afternoon, the longer they'd talked, after their initial awkward fumbling, the more Jensen had discovered how much more there was to Jared Padalecki than his handsome face and ridiculously ripped body. He's funny, hilariously clumsy and endearingly self-deprecating when talking about his (over)achievements. He's also kind, charming and utterly genuine. His dimples make him look like a kid, despite the fact that he's nearly thirty, and his molasses smooth accent makes Jensen want to lick the words from his mouth. If Padalecki's good looks won him a place in Jensen's fantasies, his easy-natured charm has won over his heart quicker than Jensen would ever have believed possible.  
  
It's not love. No Way! It can't be. Love is something that takes time and effort, takes long conversations and longer make-out sessions. It takes late night arguments and frantic make-up sex. It takes trust and faith. Love at first sight simply does not exist. Except in movies and trashy novels, like the ones his mother has stashed away in musty cardboard boxes that Jensen has never ever read, not even when he was unemployed and broke and bored enough to consider cleaning out the garage. In one of those novels, Jensen thinks, Jared Padalecki might just have been the love of his life, and this might be a little misunderstanding, a tiny bump in the road before they fall passionately into one another’s arms and live happily ever after.  
  
Life, unfortunately, is not a romance novel.  
  
Jared Padalecki is an arrogant son of a bitch, who's probably already forgotten all about Jensen and moved on to seducing someone who doesn't fly off the handle at the slightest provocation. Yes…okay, in retrospect Jensen can admit he might have over-reacted a tiny bit. It is possible that he's a tad sensitive about his height. About the assumptions that people make because of his height. That doesn't mean that Jared Padalecki isn't a patronizing bag of dicks. It just means that he's the latest in a long line of patronizing dicks. What Jared Padalecki isn’t, is interested in someone like Jensen.

  
Fifteen minutes later, Jensen finds himself standing outside _Padalecki's_ , the giant gold letters glaring down at him from above the front doors. Guess he's back sooner rather than later then. It's better to get this over and done with, Jensen tells himself, loosening off his tie, slipping it over his head and shoving it in his jacket pocket.  
  
Strictly speaking he should walk in through the staff entrance, but what the heck, he's already quit so it's not like they can fire him. It's nearly closing time. Jake, one of the few uniformed guards they have, is standing inside the front door looking at his watch and holding an old-fashioned ring of keys in his hand. He double-takes as Jensen walks in through the front door, but doesn't move to stop him, just looks slightly puzzled. Mike, another guard, is watching some teenagers in the beauty department on the ground floor and nods at Jensen as he walks past.  
  
An announcement rings out over the public address system, proclaiming that the store will be closing in five minutes and ‘please take your purchases to the checkout, thank you very much’. Jensen should make his way up to the offices. He should find Miss Cortese and officially hand in his notice before Padalecki fires him or maybe he should go to the security office where Clif will be watching the camera feeds, or more likely drinking his coffee and finishing off another one of his sudoku puzzles. What he actually does is wander up to the third floor. He wants to explain to Steve what's going on before he hears it from somebody else. Although with the efficiency that the rumor mill in this place runs, it may already be too late for that.  
  
A few people hurry past him, heading towards the exits, but the store is fairly empty. Tuesday's are not the busiest day of the week, so there are few customers and even fewer staff still here just before closing time.  
  
He reaches the third floor, and is about to leave the stairwell when he looks up and notices something weird. About half-way up the next flight of stairs which leads to the top floor there's thick red rope stretching the whole way across the stairway, blocking it off. That's wrong. Areas do occasionally get roped off but not entire floors. Not just before closing. Not without security knowing why.  
  
Slipping his phone from his pocket, Jensen speed-dials Clif's number while he ducks under the rope and cautiously climbs up to the top floor. Clif still hasn't answered by the time Jensen makes it to the last bend in the stairway before the fourth floor landing. He keeps his phone in his hand, poised to dial 911, while his other hand reaches to the back-pocket of his pants for his handcuffs. Not as useful as a gun or even pepper spray but they're the only thing he's permitted to carry. Deep, steadying breaths and Jensen turns the corner, hopes he's over-reacting. He's not.  
  
He doesn't even get a chance to see what's happening. As soon as he turns the corner, he's shoved hard in the chest. Hard enough to send him crashing backwards, bouncing off the corner of the stairwell wall. He scrabbles to catch the handrail but, unwilling to drop his phone, fails to save himself and stumbles. Losing his footing, the stairs fall away under his feet and he tumbles down. Pain radiates up his arm as his elbow catches the edge of a stair, he hears his knee pops before it collapses under him and it's possible that he blacks out for a fraction of a second.  
  
He finally manages to stop himself about half-way down the staircase but he's disoriented and winded and can't do anything to stop the blur of three or four people in dark clothes and combat boots rushing past him. The only guy he catches a half-decent look at is wearing a black hoody zipped up high over his mouth. Jensen kicks out his foot in a last-ditch attempt to stop him up as he runs past. Easily avoiding Jensen's feeble effort, the guy whirls back around and smashes Jensen across the head with his gun.  
  
Jensen definitely blacks out this time. Not for long, he doesn't think. Long enough that he's now sitting alone on the stairs but not long enough that anyone has appeared to find out what's going on. His vision is screwed, he can't see properly out of one eye, which is fucking annoying, because he's dropped his cellphone and can't see where it's landed. Inching up to his feet, his back pushing against the wall for support as his knee protests his every move, Jensen makes it three steps up the staircase before he spots the smashed and useless remains of his phone.  
  
"Jensen!"  
  
Jensen whips his head around, regretting it immediately when his remaining vision swims, and he almost pukes on his shoes.  
  
"Shit, man. What's going on?" It's Steve, Jensen realizes. Thank Christ.  
  
"Jensen, sit down, man. Before you fall down. What the hell happened? Four guys just ran through my department and out the staff-exit. Where the fuck's Clif? What's going on?"  
  
Jensen knows Steve is freaking out but he needs him to shut up for one second so he can get a word in.  
  
"Call the police." He manages to croak out. "Call the police, Steve, tell them armed robbery. Need to... need to see-"  
  
The world seems pretty much to have stopped swaying under Jensen's feet, and he needs to find out if everyone is okay. It's time to man up and do his duty.  
  
"Jensen, wait. You're bleeding. Jensen... come on man, you can't-"  
  
"Police, Steve." Jensen says, then grasps the handrail and drags himself up to the top floor.  
  
He's so fucking relieved at what he finds that he nearly laughs. The two sales assistants with masking tape sealing their mouths shut and zip-tied wrists and ankles probably wouldn't appreciate that. It's so much better than the bloody massacre that Jensen had anticipated though.  
  
Jensen staggers across to where they're sitting on the floor, carefully drops to his knees with a pained gasp and eases the sticky tape from their mouths.  
  
"You okay?" He asks.  
  
One of them, a woman old enough to be Jensen's grandmother, jerks a nod. Unlike the young guy at her side, she looks infuriated rather than traumatized.  
  
"Is there anyone... anyone else here? Anyone hurt?" Jensen asks, trying to figure out if he can free the two of them without a knife. If he could see properly and didn't have a messed up arm and knee, not to mention one hell of a headache, it would help.  
  
"No," the woman shakes her head, "there's only the two of us here at this time on a Tuesday. We were just finishing up when those brutes barged in and started threatening us."  
  
"Did you... did you press the panic button?" Jensen asks, giving up on their bonds for a minute and swiping his hand across his eye. That helps with his vision. Looking down he discovers why; his hand is covered in blood which must be dripping down from his head into his eye. That’s just perfect.  
  
"Those… those bastards knew where the buttons were. We didn't get a chance." With the venom in the woman’s answer, he suspects than in a fair fight those robbers might regret picking on this sweet old lady. She’s certainly gutsy.  
  
"What did they want? I mean… were they after something specific or did they… was it just a smash and grab?"  
  
"Two of them smashed the glass counters, and the other two broke into the safe and stole the pieces that are too valuable to have out on display."  
  
"Shit," Jensen says. "What the hell... how did they open it?"  
  
"They appeared to know the code."  
  
Jensen lets that information sink in, while he quickly blots the blood from his eye with the sleeve of his jacket. Thanks to the brass band marching through his head, he isn't thinking entirely clearly, but something about that, about this whole thing, stinks.  
  
How did they know about the panic buttons? Why aren't the cops here already? Surely Clif saw all this happen on the security cameras. How did they know where the safe was situated, never mind know the damn code for it? How did they even know there was a safe?  
  
He has to find Clif. If the cameras have been sabotaged, he should have noticed by now. If they haven't, he should know they have a really fucking major problem. Unless he's-  
  
"Jensen?" Steve's calls from the doorway, hesitant and shaky.  
  
"It's fine," Jensen calls back, his own voice a bit steadier now he can see better and the urge to puke is fading. "It's fine. See if you can find scissors or something to cut these zip ties... don't disturb anything else, though and, shit, maybe we'd better wait until the cops get here. Look, can you just stay with them?"  
  
"Sure, sure." Steve says. "The police should be here in a minute."  
  
"Great," Jensen says, very gingerly standing up and swaying only slightly. "I need to make sure... make sure Clif's alright."  
  
"Shouldn't you wait until the cops get here?"  
  
"No time," Jensen says, stripping off his blood-soaked suit jacket and dumping it on the floor. "He could be hurt. Phone Jared or Miss Cortese. Tell them what's going on."  
  
Holding his injured arm against his body, Jensen tries to smile reassuringly at the two sales assistants and Steve. They don't seem impressed.  
  
The security office is on the first floor. If it wasn't for the adrenalin surging through him, he doubts he'd make it. He follows the same route that it appears the robbers took; down one flight of the main stairs, across the third floor then down the back stairs. The thieves are almost certainly long gone by now. This was a well-planned robbery, executed by people who knew what they were doing, and who weren't going to hang around. Still, as he limps down the stairs, his senses are on high alert. Every noise, every flicker of light enough to send his pulse rocketing.  
  
The collar of his shirt is soaked through and adhered to the back of his neck, and he has to keep wiping his eye clear of blood. Even minor head wounds bleed like Niagara Falls, it's damn irritating. He swipes the sweat from the palms of his hands across the seat of his pants and slowly pushes open the door to the security room.  
  
The television screens are all blank, wires ripped out of the computer that sits on the desk. Clif's chair is overturned in the middle of the small room. A muffled moan and thud sounds from below the desk.  
  
It's Clif. Lying on his stomach, wrists zip-tied, and mouth gagged with tape, just like the two sales assistants. Jensen hauls him out, ignoring the fierce complaints of his throbbing elbow and knee as he does so. He peels the tape from Clif's mouth and rummages through the bottom drawer of the desk to find a pair of scissors.  
  
"Fuck!" Clif gasps, chest heaving as he drags in deep lungful’s of oxygen.  
  
"You okay?" Jensen asks as he finally spots the scissors.  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Clif says. "What's going on? Two guys bust in here and overpowered me."  
  
Jensen starts cutting the plastic binds at Clif's ankles, "there were four of them. They robbed the jewelry department."  
  
"Shit," Clif says as Jensen finally saws through the plastic at his ankles and moves on to his wrists.  
  
"You didn't see them on the screens before they broke in here?" Jensen asks.  
  
"Obviously not," Clif retorts as he manages to force the ties around his wrists to break apart now that Jensen has cut them half-way through.  
  
Clif staggers slightly as he pushes himself to his feet, leaning against the wall until he finds his equilibrium. "You call the police?"  
  
"They're on their way," Jensen says. "Should be here by now."  
  
"Good, good. You okay, kid? You don't look that hot."  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine. Fell down the stairs." Jensen stands up, leaning back against the desk to take some of the weight off his knee.  
  
"Lucky they didn't shoot you, I guess. You see their faces?"  
  
"Not really, maybe one of them. But... kinda hard to remember clearly. You?"  
  
"Nah." Clif shakes his head and runs a hand over his bald crown, wiping away a sheen of sweat.  
  
"I saw Jake and Mike on the ground floor, but where's Adam and Bill?" Jensen asks.  
  
"Sent Bill home a bit early. His feet were bothering him something fierce, and Adam was down in soft-furnishing last time he checked in."  
  
The sick feeling rolling in Jensen’s gut is growing steadily and not because of his head injury. "You know this has to be an inside job, right?"  
  
"How do you figure?" asks Clif.  
  
"They got in and out too easy. They knew too much."  
  
"Maybe they watched the store."  
  
"Yeah, maybe... But they just happen to hit us three days before we upgraded the CCTV system and installed security locks on the staff doors."  
  
"Plenty of folks knew about that," Clif says, which Jensen can't argue with. It was hardly a state secret, and people talk. Still...  
  
"You don't think it's weird they knew when to strike, or how to block off the stairs or where the panic buttons were?"  
  
"Kid, like I said, they probably watched the store. Intelligent guys like these, I'm sure they had no trouble figuring out the best time to hit us. You told me yourself when you blew in here with all your new ideas, how outdated our security was."  
  
"Yeah, that's true." Jensen says, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes, a hint of doubt entering his voice.  
  
"Yeah," Clif says, growing more confident in his theory, now that Jensen doesn't seem quite so sure of himself. "Every store has panic buttons; I bet it wasn't hard to figure out where they were. And they’d know we wouldn't display the really valuable stuff, so it'd be obvious we'd have a safe, they probably figured out the code by watching-"  
  
"I never mentioned the safe." Jensen says, subtly bracing his hands on the desk behind him."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I never said they knew about the safe or the code," Jensen repeats firmly.  
  
"Jensen-"  
  
"Clif, don't bullshit me."  
  
"You were supposed to be fucking unconscious or out chasing that useless shit from earlier." Clif growls, every hint of friendliness vanishing in a flash from his face. "You think you're so fucking clever, don't you, you little faggot? Coming in here and telling everyone what a crap job I'm doing-"  
  
"Clif, I didn't-"  
  
"Shut the fuck up. Look at you, you're just a goddamn child."  
  
The cops should be here by now. Jensen just needs to play for time. Just a few more minutes before back-up arrives.  
  
Clif unfortunately realizes that too.  
  
"Fuck," his eyes dart towards the door.  
  
"Clif-" Jensen steps forward just as Clif does.  
  
Clif grins. He's at least a hundred pounds heavier than Jensen. He's well over six foot tall, and Jensen's barely five seven. Blood is still dripping down Jensen's face, his elbow is throbbing, and his knee is barely holding him up.  
  
It's not even close to being a fair fight.  
  
  
 **Part Three**  
  
  


 Jared charges towards the security office. Three cops are right on his heels, and Steve's following close behind. His heart is thudding so hard he thinks his chest might implode.  
  
How could this happen? How could people that work for him be threatened and hurt, be terrified someplace where they should feel safe? They have cameras and protocols. They have security guards. These people are his staff, his responsibility. Something has gone very wrong.  
  
The only thing stopping Jared from losing it completely is that no-one is seriously hurt. As far as he knows. When Gen had burst into his office, breathlessly informing him of the robbery, tears threatening at the corner of her eyes, Jared had immediately bolted to the fourth floor, arriving just before the first police officers appeared. It was Steve, kneeling on the floor beside his two shaking employees who had frantically explained that Jensen had run off to the security office. Jensen… what the hell was he even doing here? Jared thought for sure he'd blown it completely and scared him off for good. Jensen should be at home, cursing the day he met Jared, or filing a sexual-harassment complaint, not racing head-first into danger, again!  
  
A black pit of dread engulfs Jared, growing darker and denser the closer he gets to the security office. Cold sweat crawls down the back of his neck, and his legs feel heavier with every step.  
  
The door to the security office is ajar. Jared doesn't slow his pace at all before he pushes it open, barreling through at full pelt; the door crashes against the wall like a warning clap of thunder as Jared skids to an abrupt halt.  
  
Jensen and Clif are on the floor in the center of the trashed room. Jensen is covered in blood. His face streaked with it, his white shirt obscene, soaked through and sticking to his skin.  
  
He looks up at Jared, mouth set in a grim line. Clif grunts, squirms on the floor. Jensen's sitting on the back of his legs pinning him to the floor. Clif's hands are securely handcuffed behind his back and held securely by Jensen, his thick neck tomato red, with an angry vein pulsing in it.  
  
"Jensen! Clif?" Jared stares at the two men. He stumbles forward; the coppery smell of blood seeping through the air, turning his stomach. "Jensen?"  
  
"Get this asshole off me," Clif snarls, trying unsuccessfully to buck Jensen off.  
  
"He's in on it." Jensen says. "Cliff, he's one of them."  
  
"Okay, Sir." A cop walks around Jared towards the two men on the floor. "We've got him from here."  
  
Jared hears another cop behind him radioing in and requesting paramedics.  
  
"He told them." Jensen says looking at Jared. His voice is pitched low and almost unnaturally calm given the circumstances and the amount of blood he's lost from the ragged laceration still sluggishly bleeding across his brow, and, going by the bloody mess of his shirt sleeve, from his arm too. "He told them everything."  
  
"Why don't we get you looked at first, son, then we can take your statement." The first cop bends down to help Jensen up.  
  
Jensen scowls at the cop, unwilling to relinquish his control of Clif and, Jared suspects, control of the whole situation quite so easily. "He set me up. He stole from you. He could have hurt-"  
  
"It's okay, Jensen." Jared says, trying to hide the crack in his voice. "He didn't hurt anyone. You stopped him. Let the police deal with him now."  
  
Jensen exhales slow and shaky, then, with the help of the cop, pushes himself up, using Clif's cuffed wrists for leverage. Clif squeals as the metal cuffs dig into his wrists. No-one spares him a second glance.  
  
Jensen wobbles as he stands, all his weight on one leg and holding his injured arm protectively against him. Under the blood dried into his skin, he's worryingly pale, almost gray.  
  
"Jenny?" Steve says, edging past Jared towards Jensen, while Jared stands uselessly glued to the spot unable to look away from Jensen's eyes which are huge and unnaturally bright against his pallid complexion.  
  
"Guitars... firewood." Jensen says cryptically, shrugging off the hand of the policeman at his side and taking one step forward, towards Jared. His knee twists beneath him, his face screws up in pain then goes abruptly slack as he passes out. Jared's arms the only thing saving him from crumpling to the floor in an undignified heap.  
  
  
  
Despite knowing Jensen for little more than twenty four hours, it comes as no surprise to Jared at all, to discover that he's a terrible patient.  
  
He regains consciousness a few minutes after his dramatic faint, much to the relief of Jared's spiking blood pressure. He's pretty out of it though; lying happily with his head pillowed in Jared's lap, mumbling nonsense about chick-lit while nuzzling against Jared's inside thigh dangerously close to his groin. Jared's caught between intensely turned on and deeply worried. When the paramedics turn up, Jared's tender cradling of his future husband - presumptuous possibly - turns into a restraining hold.  
  
Blood soaked, ashen-faced, and with a knee that's visibly - even through his suit pants - swelling, Jensen is adamant that he doesn't need to go to hospital. Determinedly, and unsuccessfully, attempting to stand up to prove his point. Thankfully everyone, including the paramedics, ignores his complaints, blaming his tacit refusal to co-operate on a concussion. Jared suspects it has less to do with head-trauma and more to do with Jensen's normal prickly nature, but, despite Jensen's glower, fails to enlighten anyone of that, just in case they actually listen to the maniac.  
  
Once they manage to spoon Jensen into the ambulance, Jared has little option but to stay behind, while Steve climbs in alongside his friend. As desperately as Jared wants to stay by Jensen's side it's just not possible or practical. Plus Steve and Genevieve are giving him strange looks. As if watching Jared whisper sweet nothings in Jensen’s ear while gently petting his face is weird. Pfft - what do they know?  
  
Jared has statements to make, and a mountain of paperwork to complete, before he can even think about going to the hospital. There’s also his traumatized staff to support and a frankly terrifying Danneel Harris to placate. She loudly and vehemently holds Jared personally responsible for any injuries that Jensen has incurred. As if Jared had encouraged Jensen to throw himself at armed robbers. God, Jared breaks out in a cold sweat just thinking about it. Genevieve eventually calms an enraged Danneel down, promising to drive her to the hospital to visit Jensen. Jared is still on the phone with the insurance company when they leave and totally doesn't pout over that fact.  
  
After wading through hours of crap that Clif is going to pay heavily in jailed years for, Jared finally makes it to the hospital. It's late, seriously late. The last straggling visitors were thrown out hours ago. Jared hasn't made his fortune by bowing to intimidating looks though, not even from nurses that look as though they eat children for breakfast. With a little charm, and a lot of bluster, he eventually finds Jensen's room.  
  
As he expects, Jensen is out for the count. What he doesn't expect is to find is Jeffrey Dean Morgan sitting, cloaked in shadow, at the side of Jensen's bed, reading his notes.  
  
"Jeff?" Jared says, standing inside the door, suddenly feeling rather unsure of himself. Jared's a big guy, usually the biggest in the room, and he's not intimidated by many people, but Jeffrey Dean Morgan is one frightening dude. He has these dark eyes that look right into you, like he can see down into your very soul and know every thought that's ever run through your mind.  
  
"JT, good to see you, son." The words are friendly, the tone not so much.  
  
Jeff stands up, and Jared tries not to show any fear as he approaches. He's known Jeff for years, since he was a kid trailing around after his dad, but right at this second Jeff looks less like an old family friend and far more like the father of his prom-date. A father with a murky past and serial killer skills.  
  
"Hey, Jeff. Didn't expect to see you here." Jared's proud of the way he resists wincing when Jeff shakes his hand just a touch too firmly to be considered friendly.  
  
"I heard that my boy here managed to get himself in some trouble. Wanted to make sure it wasn't anything major." Jeff says, sitting back down and nodding toward Jensen, who's definitely the most relaxed person in the room right at this minute.  
  
"You heard?" Jared queries.  
  
Jeff's carefully controlled expression is enough to discourage Jared from pressing any further. "Is he alright?" Jared looks at Jensen lying very still in the bed. He’s still incredibly pale even in the muted light of the room. A dressing is taped just over his right eyebrow and man, but he looks small surrounded by those unfriendly starched white sheets, and a pillow that doesn't offer his poor head half as much comfort as Jared's thigh did.  
  
"He managed to knock that pretty head of his hard enough to get a nasty concussion; bruised his elbow real bad, and he's torn his PCL."  
  
Jared's blank look encourages Jeff to elaborate. "He's messed his knee up bad. Torn the ligament. Doesn't need surgery, the doc said, but he's gonna have to wear a brace for a while and do enough PT to make him stop and think before he does something this damn reckless again."  
  
While that sounds bad, Jared can't help but think it could be a hell of a lot worse. "Should he be sleeping?" Isn't there something about not letting people suffering head injuries sleep? Jared’s sure that-  
  
"They said it was best if he got an uninterrupted night's sleep."  
  
It must be obvious that Jared’s about to argue, because Jeff preempts him, holding his hand up and cutting him off before he can utter a single word.  
  
"I know, I know. The doc said they don't do that waking him up every couple hours stuff anymore. They're monitoring his vitals, though."  
  
Jared stares doubtfully at Jensen. Damn doctors changing their minds all the time. They'd better not be wrong, or he's-  
  
"So, kid" Jeff continues as Jared shuffles a bit closer towards the bed, towards Jensen. "What exactly is going on between you and my boy here?"  
  
"Your boy?" Jared says, a little fed up with Jeff's propriety over Jensen.  
  
"My boy. My responsibility. I told him you were a good guy; told him you weren't a dick and wouldn't piss him about. Was I wrong?"  
  
Jared edges around the other side of the bed from Jeff and perches on a little plastic chair that might have been designed for school-children, or dwarves. Show no fear, he thinks. He's done nothing wrong. He thinks he's done nothing wrong anyway. He's starting to doubt himself. "Of course you weren't wrong, Jeff. You know me."  
  
"Hmm," Jeff says, sounding as though that’s not necessarily a good thing.  
  
"You think it's my fault he got hurt?"  
  
Jeff shakes his head. "No, I don't. I do think Jensen needs a reminder to keep his mind on the job and not let personal crap interfere with his decision making."  
  
"Personal crap? Jeff, what-"  
  
"What's going on between you and Jensen?"  
  
Okay, no more beating around the bush then.  
  
"Nothing, Jeff. I just met him yesterday." Jared checks his watch. "The day before yesterday now, I guess."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And nothing, man."  
  
"Do not bullshit me, Jared." Jeff leans forward in his chair and... was that a growl?  
  
"Okay, okay." Jared says, realizing that he's going to have to come clean. Bracing himself for the worst, he says. "I love him."  
  
"You what now?"  
  
"I love him."  
  
"Huh."  
  
"Huh?" Jared had expected more of a reaction than that.  
  
"That's... unexpected."  
  
"You're telling me."  
  
Jeff coughs, but Jared's sure it's to disguise a snort of laughter. "So you love him."  
  
"Yes, I do."  
  
"And you've known him how long?"  
  
Jared consults his watch again, waits until the second hand passes the twelve. "Thirty-five hours and seventeen minutes."  
  
"Huh!"  
  
"I've got to tell you, Jeff, after the whole protective papa bear act, I expected more than a 'huh'."  
  
Jeff sits back in his chair, managing to look much more comfortable than Jared feels, and smiles. Well, it's more of a smirk really. "I've never heard you say that you love someone before. Not even that gorgeous blonde with the legs up to her chin; the one that set fire to your collection of skin mags when she found them."  
  
"Yeah, Kimmy was really something."  
  
"You and her were an item for quite a while. Must have been your longest relationship to date. You were with her how long?"  
  
"I don't know; six-seven months?"  
  
"But you didn't love her?"  
  
"God, no!"  
  
"And how long have you known Jensen again?"  
  
Jared checks, "Thirty-five hours and eighteen minutes."  
  
"Huh!"  
  
"Jeff!!"  
  
Jeff laughs. Jared stares at him.  
  
"Relax kid," Jeff says, and Jared starts to think that maybe he's the one with the head injury. "Jensen was mumbling some crap earlier on. Guess it makes more sense now."  
  
"What kind of-" Jared starts to ask before thinking better of it. Jeff won't tell him anyway. "You believe me?"  
  
"You're a lot of things J.T, but a liar ain't one of them. Besides, I’ve known you since you were knee high to a grasshopper, kid, and I've never seen you look at anyone the way you looked at him when you walked in that door."  
  
"So, that's it?" Jared asks, still waiting for a punch line. There's no way that Jeff is going to let him off the hook that easily. He looked like he was going to string him up by his shoelaces five minutes ago.  
  
"Yep, that's it." Jeff stands up, brushes Jensen's hair back from face, looks across to see Jared glaring at him and merely grins.  
  
"You really believe I love him after knowing him less than forty-eight hours?" Jared asks. Why he's pushing Jeff towards a fight, he's not sure, maybe he'd just rather makes sure that Jeff is as cool with Jared as he's pretending to be. He's not keen on finding a horse's head in his bed.  
  
"Strangers things have happened." Jeff replies. "Chris and I moved in together after four days."  
  
Jared gapes. He did not know that. How did he not know that?  
  
"Of course," Jeff carries on, brown eyes lighting up, "we spent three of those days fucking like bunnies."  
  
"I did not need to know that."  
  
Jeff laughs. "Okay, I'm going to head out. Tell Jensen I'll call him tomorrow. Pretty sure he was mostly unconscious through my lecture about rushing into unknown danger without waiting for back-up. It won't hurt to repeat it anyway."  
  
"You don't want to hang around? I can have a room at the hotel made available."  
  
"No, that's fine, J.T. I think you two have a few things to sort out. I'll leave you to it. Besides..." Jeff nods at Jensen, "he's a pain in the ass when he's sick."  
  
Jared is not surprised to hear that at all.  
  
Jeff opens the door but stops with his hand on the door-handle and turns back, "Jared..."  
  
Jared waits, he knew the hurt him, and I'll break your legs speech was coming eventually.  
  
"Jensen's a good kid. Really... I mean it. He's something special. Don't hurt him."  
  
"I won't, Jeff. I promise I won't."  
  
"You'd better not."  
  
"Or you'll break my legs?"  
  
"Oh, Jared. Trust me, I won't need to." Jeff tilts his head at Jensen and raises his eyebrows before leaving the room with a wry grin on his face.  
  
Okay...well, that's slightly disconcerting. And, awkwardly, pretty damn hot!  
  
Jared fidgets uncomfortably on the plastic chair at the side of Jensen's hospital bed, watching the rise and fall of his chest with every breath he takes. It's a little worrying that it's not the most stalkerish thing he's done in the past twenty-four hours. His hand twitches with the need to reach out and touch Jensen. To hold his hand. To brush his fingers across the freckles on the back of Jensen's wrist. He wants to press a kiss against Jensen's forehead. It doesn't seem right though. The first time that he holds hands with Jensen or kisses him should not be when he's asleep.  
  
"Hey."  
  
Jared's head jerks up at the rough strain of Jensen's voice.  
  
"You're awake." Jared says. "You’re not supposed to be. I mean they said that you should sleep, because of the concussion and-"  
  
"Jared, shhh." Jensen says, but he's smiling. Or trying to. It's a very restrained imitation of his earlier animated smile, but it's still a relief to see.  
  
"Sorry. You need anything? Water?"  
  
Jensen shakes his head, immediately scrunches his eyes shut and groans. "Fuck, my head hurts."  
  
"You want a nurse? A doctor?"  
  
"No no, it's fine... if I don't move."  
  
Jared hovers, half standing up. Jensen's idea of fine and Jared's are two very different things. "I really think I should fetch a nurse or-"  
  
"I swear," Jensen says, "I've had worse."  
  
Jared winces, "That's not as reassuring as you seem to think, Jensen."  
  
"Please, Jared. I don't want anyone poking and prodding at me." Jensen turns those irresistible green eyes on him. Reluctantly, Jared sits back down.  
  
"Jeff gone?" Jensen's talking quietly, Jared leans forward to hear him and keeps his own tone similarly low and hushed.  
  
"Yeah. Not too long ago. He said he'd call you later."  
  
"Is he gonna yell?"  
  
Jared huffs a laugh under his breath and tries not to melt completely at Jensen suddenly sounding like an eight year old.  
  
"Probably."  
  
"Awesome. You gonna yell or...or fire me?"  
  
"Fire you? What the hell for?"  
  
"Earlier. We fought and I... "  
  
Jared does reach out now; ever so gently placing his hand over Jensen's. "We fought, because I was an idiot, again, and I’m sorry for what I said. For doubting you. If you still want to work here, of course you can.”  
  
"Really? But… God, I'm so sorry."  
  
"What? Jensen what the hell are you sorry about?"  
  
"The robbery. If I hadn't walked out. If I'd done my job. If I'd..."  
  
"Jensen, stop. You were amazing. You did everything you could. Everything. You figured it all out. You caught Clif. He's spilling his guts to the cops right now, trying to save his own ass. We're going to find the rest of them, Jensen. You almost got yourself killed trying to stop those guys. When I think about what might have happened. Jesus!"  
  
Jared has to stop, feels sick just thinking about what could have happened. What he could have lost just as he'd found it.  
  
Jensen's hand slips out from under Jared's. Jared feels the loss like a fatal wound. Closes his eyes and swallows hard. Then Jensen's fingers find his. No longer lying lax but entwining with Jared's, joining them together, fitting together perfectly. Jared opens his eyes and stares and hopes.  
  
"Jared," Jensen says. "I don't know... I don't know what's happening. But... I mean, maybe it’s stupid, and I know we've only just met, but I think...I think... it feels like….there's something here. Between us. If I'm wrong-"  
  
"No," Jared says, more vehemently than he'd intended. Jensen flinches; his hand jerking away from Jared's. Jared catches his fingers before they slip away from him completely. "No, Jensen. I mean you're not wrong. I thought maybe...maybe it was just me, because this...us... I've never felt anything like this before."  
  
Jensen's smile is back. Stronger and warmer and shattering the tight band of pressure that Jared hadn't even known was crushing his heart.  
  
“Good, that’s good,” he says. “I thought earlier you were going to… but then we fought and I –“  
  
“I was going to…you know, earlier, but then that guy… and you-“  
  
“You know-” Jensen licks his lips, voice breaking to a dry husk. Jared pours some water into a glass, helps him sit up enough to take a sip then plumps his pillow and settles him back down. Jensen glowers the whole way through. “You know… I’m not a delicate flower.”  
  
Jared nods. “I saw what you did to Clif, so yes, I know that you’re not a delicate flower. You could probably kick my ass.”  
  
“No.” Jensen says.  
  
“No?”  
  
“Not probably. Definitely. I could definitely kick your ass.” Jensen clarifies. “And I’m not going to change. Not going to stop-“  
  
“Stop rushing headlong into danger.” Jared finishes when Jensen’s voice seems to be in danger of fading away again.  
  
Jensen nods.  
  
“And I’m not going to stop worrying about you being hurt by rushing headlong into danger.” Jared says, adding honestly, “and I’ll probably never stop asking you to find a safer job.”  
  
"So-" Jensen says.  
  
"So-" Jared says, "will you marry me?"  
  
"What?" Jensen squeaks.  
  
"No?" Jared laughs at the thunderstruck expression on Jensen's face. "Too soon? Okay, how about dinner then?"  
  
"Asshole." Jensen says trying to scowl but failing miserably. "What would you have done if I'd said yes?"  
  
"I would have applied for a license, before you changed your mind" Jared says. “Jensen, we might not agree on everything all the time, but I meant what I said before; I've never felt like this, ever.”  
  
"Jared, that's... you.... but I'm just..." Jensen looks stunned by the depth of intent burning in Jared’s voice.  
  
"It's okay. We don't have to rush into anything. I just want you to know; this... us... you... you're special, and important, and dinner.... dinner is great, amazing, but I want more. I want everything."  
  
"Jared!" Jensen's voice quivers and his eyes look suspiciously bright. Although he’ll deny it forever, there are definitely tears threatening to spill over. Jared releases a breath he didn’t even know he was holding; relieved that he's not the only one drowning in a crazy mess of unexpected feelings.  
  
“I want that too.” Jensen eventually croaks, tiredness and pain evident in his ashen complexion and the tight lines creasing the corners of his eyes.  
  
"Go to sleep, Jensen." Jared says, quietly. “I’m not going anywhere. We can talk in the morning, when you're actually awake."  
  
"Jared, can you... “Jensen stops and chews on his bottom lip nervously.  
  
"Anything. I'll do anything, just ask."  
  
Jensen's voice is barely more than a whisper. "Can you kiss me?"  
  
Jared doesn't reply, not with words. He stands up and, careful not to jostle Jensen, not to cause him even a single jolt of pain, leans down and gently presses his lips against Jensen's. It's maybe not the best first kiss ever. Not the most passionate. But it's a promising start.  
  


  
**Part Four**

 

"You didn't have to do that!"  
  
The cool night air outside the club is a welcome relief. They don't go to clubs often. Jared says he's too old, but truth be told, it's Jensen that's not keen on them. Too many people, crowded together in a too small space; trampling on your toes and breathing in your air. Flashing lights that half-blind you, and insanely loud music assaulting your ears. The solitary reason that Jensen puts up with the cloying claustrophobia is for the chance to dance with Jared. It's not that he has an exhibitionist streak, God no, but there's something about touching Jared, rutting against him, kissing and swaying together with the heavy beat of the bass pounding through their bodies that is intoxicating.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Don't act innocent. You know damn well what!"  
  
"Really, no idea what you're talking about."  
  
"You nearly made that poor guy wet himself."  
  
"He shouldn't have had his hands all over my ass then, should he?"  
  
"Pretty sure it was my ass his hands were on."  
  
"Exactly!"  
  
"Getting a bit possessive there, baby?"  
  
"Just looking after what's mine."  
  
"You do know that I can look after myself, right? I'm a big boy."  
  
Jensen sniggers, unable to resist a good double entendre. "I'm not arguing with you there!"  
  
Rolling his eyes, Jared throws his arm around Jensen's shoulders and pulls him in close. "You know it's pretty hot when you get all protective and growly?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Sure, baby. You're like a cute little koala hiding claws that can rip a man's beating heart right out of his chest."  
  
"Well," Jensen says, manfully ignoring the koala metaphor. "Your heart's safe with me."  
  
"Aw... baby. Under that grumpy exterior, you really are a complete sap." Jared says kissing the top of his head. Jensen just manages not to reach up and fix his hair afterwards.  
  
"Well, I was going to suck your cock when we got home, but if you're going to be an ass-"  
  
"Your bluffing is pathetic, Jen. You know you're gonna be desperate for my cock the second we get through the door." Jared dips his head down, nosing against Jensen's cheek bone, his deep drawl tickling the shell of Jensen's ear. "I'm gonna have you begging for it before I'm through with you tonight."  
  
Jared, damn him, knows exactly how much a little dirty talk in that rough drawl of his turns Jensen on. His dick was already hard and chafing uncomfortably against the zipper of his tight black jeans from grinding against Jared back in the club. Now, he can barely walk. Luckily, they aren't far from Jared's apartment. Or rather, _their_ apartment.  
  
Jensen moved in three weeks ago. Six weeks after they first slept together. Eight weeks after their first date. Eleven weeks after their first kiss and eleven weeks and one day after their first fight. Truth be told, it would all have happened even quicker had Jensen's messed up leg not slowed them down.  
  
They still fight. Often and loudly. Jared is an over-protective, over-bossy bundle of energy, and Jensen can be defensive and stubborn past the point of reason. Their worst screaming-match happened a few weeks back. Jared, not for the first time, set Jensen up with an interview for a very well paid, very safe and - in Jensen's opinion - unbearably dull, office job. Jensen, in retaliation, threatened to hand in his notice and take the job a friend of Jeff’s had offered him; working close protection security. In Somalia. Genevieve had heard Jared's yelling three offices away. They moved in together the next day. Everyone thinks they're insane. They don't give a solitary fuck. Their relationship might not be normal, but who the hell wants normal when they can have extraordinary.  
  
To prove a point, Jensen succeeds in resisting Jared and his dick when they walk through their front door. Evading Jared's wandering hands and stoically ignoring the delicious way Jared’s nuzzling his neck, he restrains himself, until they hit the living room, then with a playful shove and a throaty growl he pushes Jared down onto the leather sofa.  
  
“Your knee, Jen.” Jared reminds him as Jensen is about to drop to the floor. Jensen rolls his eyes, his knee is fine; Jared’s just an overprotective drama-queen sometimes. Still, he takes the cushion that Jared shoves at him, kneeling carefully on it just to stop Jared nagging.  
  
Sitting back on his heels between Jared's spread thighs, Jensen takes a second to appreciate the mouthwatering bulge in Jared’s jeans straining towards him. Unclasping Jared's brass Texas belt buckle, he slowly draws down his zipper. At the sight in front of him, he can't help but let out a whine that he knows will make Jared grin, the smug ass. Had Jensen known that Jared was going commando all night, they might not have made it home.  
  
Just as Jensen had suspected from the start, Jared's dick is indeed a thing of beauty. In the few weeks since they first got together, Jensen has become dangerously addicted to it; the sight of it, lying soft against Jared's thigh or fully erect and slapping against his gym-hard abs; the smell of it, aroused and leaking and Jensen's favorite; the taste of it - a hint musky, a touch salty and irrefutably and wholly Jared. Actually no, what Jensen loves most is the feeling of Jared pushing that fat cock into his ass. It's best when Jensen is still tight, not quite stretched enough, when he can feel that initial burn before the white wash of pleasure consumes him when Jared's whole length sinks inside of him, filling him. Completing him.  
  
Right now though, after hours of foreplay at the club, Jensen is wound up and horny, aching to stretch his lips around Jared's eager dick. To feel the heavy weight of it pressing against his tongue. It's right there in front of his mouth, full and thick and tempting. The fat head of it nearly purple with need, twitching impatiently, just waiting for Jensen to taste.  
  
Jensen's not in the mood for teasing. He passed that point hours ago. Jared's groan at the tantalizing view of Jensen licking his lips is soon eclipsed by the moan Jensen releases when his mouth is finally full of Jared's cock. Jared's hands rest on the back of his head as Jensen forces himself to swallow down more of Jared's cock than is strictly comfortable.  
  
The first time that Jensen fell to his knees in awe and nearly choked in his greedy desperation to swallow down the entire length of Jared's cock, Jared abruptly lost his hard-on. Now that he knows how much Jensen loves the feeling of cock pushing down his throat he just sits back and enjoys the view. Tears stream from Jensen's eyes, and snot drips from his nose as he tips his head back and tries to relax his throat to take Jared all the way down. He can't look pretty, in fact he must look a fucking mess but, God, he's in heaven. Fingers digging into the thick muscles of Jared's thighs, he bobs his head and tries to run his tongue along the underside of Jared's dick. It's nearly impossible because of the sheer girth of it but that doesn’t stop Jensen trying. When Jared's hand clasps his head that bit firmer, and his hips thrust forward, Jensen has to reach down and release his own throbbing cock, before the rough pressure of his jeans pressing against it, turns into full on, not-fun, pain.  
  
"Fuck, Jensen," Jared rasps "You're incredible. So fucking hot... swallowing me all the way down."  
  
Jensen whimpers, and Jared bucks up in response, his balls slapping against Jensen's chin.  
  
"Fuck, fuck. Jensen, sweetheart, you're gonna have to... I'm gonna come already if you don't... fuck!"  
  
Jared's fingers are grasping, scrabbling to find a firm grip in Jensen's short hair. Jensen doesn't know whether he's attempting to pull him off or hold him still. He doesn't think Jared even knows. Jensen doesn't care, merely closes his eyes and hums, relishing the salty-sweet taste seeping into his mouth.  
  
"Christ, man... come on." Jared groans, "If you want me to fuck you, you're gonna have to... ugh fuck, you're gonna have to stop... now, Jensen, right fucking now."  
  
For all his talk, Jared's hips are bucking up just as frantically, his dick pushing down Jensen's throat. Jensen's own dick is leaking, his fingers sticky with precome. He wants fucked though, has no intention of letting Jared come just yet, no matter how much they'd both enjoy it.  
  
Gripping Jared's dick firmly at the base, Jensen pulls off; strings off saliva and precome trailing from his mouth and down his chin. Gasping for a decent lungful of air, he wipes his face across Jared's t-shirt that's rucked up against his rippling stomach. He presses wet and messy kisses against Jared's thighs as Jared hauls in ragged breaths of air and fights his way back from the brink of orgasm.  
  
"Get naked, baby. Now. Can't wait." Jared grabs Jensen and tries to yank him to his feet. He's not overly successful, the lack of blood finding its way to his brain at the moment, not helping his co-ordination any. Thankfully Jensen is capable of climbing to his own feet, shucking his sweat-soaked shirt as he goes.  
  
"You need to get naked too, Jay." He says, peeling his jeans down his legs, kicking them off along with his shoes and underwear leaving him naked and needy under Jared's heated gaze.  
  
"Fuck, yeah!" Jared pushes to his feet, nearly knocking Jensen over in his haste to divest himself of his clothes. He may not strip with the greatest of finesse; wedging his head in the neck of his skin-tight black t-shirt and almost toppling over as he attempts to free himself of the sock resolutely clinging to his foot, but Jensen's laughter at his clumsy striptease cuts off abruptly when he's faced with Jared stripped bare. Miles of golden skin, shoulders broader than Atlas, an impossibly narrow waist and long toned muscles that no businessman has any right possessing. Jensen's knees nearly buckle, desire ripping through him. He still finds it unbelievable that he's blessed enough to be loved and wanted by the gorgeous man gazing down at him.

 

_**J2J2J2J2J2J2** _

  
  
Jensen stares up at him, eyes blown dark with lust, and licking those god-damn addictive lips. Jared almost feels as though he's been sucker-punched. It's astonishing that he's allowed to even touch the beautiful guy standing in front of him. He can't imagine there ever being a day when he takes it for granted.  
  
Looking at Jensen isn't enough though. He needs to touch him, taste him, own him.  
  
In a move that looks almost choreographed, Jensen throws himself at Jared just as Jared reaches out for him. He wraps himself around Jared like a monkey, their dicks pressing together between the slick heat of their stomachs. Jared groans into Jensen's mouth as fingers tangle into his hair, angling his head perfectly for Jensen to attack with swollen lips, and curious tongue and teeth that will nibble at Jared's bottom lip until it's almost bloody.  
  
This is Jared's favorite thing in the world; Jensen horny, and desperate and in his arms. Despite his smaller size, he's not light, and Jared occasionally worries that, one of these days, he's going to land up on his ass on the floor with a lap full of pissed boyfriend. But, until that day happens, Jared's going to revel in the fact that his bad-ass and sometimes scarily intimidating boyfriend gets off on giving up his iron-clad control and letting Jared manhandle him. That Jensen could take Jared down in a heart-beat if he wanted only makes the way he turns to a wriggling mess in Jared's arms even hotter.  
  
The short journey from the living room to their - _their_ , Jared still wants to dance a happy jig when he thinks about that - bedroom, takes an eternity. Jared almost gives up and just fucks Jensen against the wall in the hallway but manhandling is one thing, fucking Jensen with nothing more than spit and pre-come is something else entirely.  
  
"Lube!" Jared growls, finally staggering into their bedroom and throwing Jensen onto the bed. Jensen, face scarlet and dick slapping against his belly, whines and dives for the drawer in his bedside table.  
  
Christ, that man should be illegal. Jared climbs on to the bed, just catching the half-empty bottle of lube that Jensen flings at him. Grabbing a pillow, Jensen shoves it under his hips, spreads his legs wide and toys with his nipples like a twink in a porn movie. He already looks utterly debauched. His hair mussed and damp with sweat, green eyes half-lidded and unnaturally dark, and his lips sinfully red and dropping open as he moans like a two dollar whore. Fuck!  
  
"Jay, if you don't move, I'm gonna dig out my biggest dildo and fuck myself." Jensen says, hips jerking up into the air desperately.  
  
"So fucking pushy, Jen." Jared says coating his fingers liberally in cold lube. Ducking his head he takes the head of Jensen's dick into his mouth and sucks as he brushes one finger slowly around the rim of his hole.  
  
"Jared!"  
  
Jared would grin at the whine in Jensen's voice if he didn't have his mouth full. Refusing to be hurried, he plays mercilessly with the outside of Jensen's hole, rubbing gentle circles around it, tapping it softly with two fingers then spanking it until Jensen is swearing blue murder, all the time sucking and licking at Jensen's dripping cock.  
  
"Just do it, you bastard," Jensen swears, squirming on the bed.  
  
Jared releases Jensen's cock from his mouth, licking a messy pattern over his tight balls before he speaks. "Do what, Jensen? Make you come? Just from spanking your tight little hole with my finger? Think I could do that?"  
  
"No, no, Jay! Come on, please!"  
  
Jensen writhes on the bed as Jared strikes three tightly squeezed fingers firmly across the rim of his hole.  
  
"Please, what?" Jared would feel bad about making Jensen beg for it, if he didn't know how much Jensen got off on it.  
  
"Fuck me! Please, fuck me?"  
  
"I can't, Jensen," Jared tries to sound sorry. "Your hole's too tight. My cock isn't going to fit in that tiny hole."  
  
"Your finger," Jensen gasps, pinching his own nipples even harder as Jared's fingertip briefly nudges past his rim. "Fuck me with your fingers. Open me up. Stretch my hole, please. Need you. Need your cock in me, please... please."  
  
Jensen nearly bucks off the bed when Jared finally sinks a finger inside of him. After all his teasing, Jared doesn't spend long stretching open Jensen's hole. One finger quickly turns into two, scissoring deep inside Jensen’s ass. Pushing in a third finger, Jared dips his head and takes Jensen's cock back into mouth, humming loudly.  
  
"Fuck!" Jensen yells throwing his head backwards and nearly braining himself on the headboard. Jensen may usually be a pretty quiet guy, but, in bed, he makes Jared grateful for his expensive soundproofing. It's hot as hell.  
  
He doesn't finger Jensen for as long as he'd like. It's impossible with the way Jensen is writhing on the bed, pleading and demanding in equal amounts.  
  
"Please... please Jay, I'm open enough, I promise. I can take it, please. Christ, Jared... just... just fuck me."  
  
Fumbling with the bottle of lube, Jared generously coats his dick, then, grabbing Jensen’s ankles, he pulls Jensen's legs up and over his shoulders, pressing forward, so he's leaning over, and Jensen is nearly bent in half. Guiding his cock in, Jared holds his breath as he's engulfed by the clench of Jensen's almost unbearably tight, hot little hole.  
  
By the time he's buried as deep as possible inside of Jensen, stars are blinking behind his eyelids, and his whole body is tensed in pleasure. Squeezing his eyes closed, Jared doggedly tries to remember the minutes of the last board meeting, until the pressure in his guts eases slightly.  
  
Jensen, the little fucker, doesn't help. "Oh, yeah! Fuck, Jay. So big. So fucking big. Love you so much. Filling me up so good. Oh, god... come on... move... please move... please-"  
  
Jared shuts him up with a kiss that’s more teeth than lips, until the danger of coming has passed.  
  
His first few thrusts are steady and deliberate. No matter how rough and hard Jensen likes it, Jared won't hurt him. Not in a way that will damage him. As the tightness around him gradually relaxes he slowly increases his tempo.  
  
Too slowly for Jensen's liking.  
  
"Christ Jay, come on. I'm not gonna break. Fuck me."  
  
If anything, Jensen's complaints just encourage Jared to keep his pace slow and even. He loves hearing Jensen lose control. Could probably come just from Jensen begging.  
  
Jensen wriggles a hand in between them, desperate to reach his own cock. Jared grabs his wrists instead, pushing them above his head.  
  
"Nuh-uh, Jensen. You want my cock so badly, let's see if you can come without touching yours."  
  
"Bastard," Jensen growls, but his hole clenches around Jared's dick, and his legs almost crush Jared's neck.  
  
Jared doesn't hold back any longer. Pistons his hips, his balls slapping noisily against Jensen's ass.  
  
Still Jensen's moaning, "harder Jay. Fuck me like you mean it goddamn it, not gonna hurt me. Want to feel it. Come on, Jared... fuck... want to feel all your huge dick breaking me open...fuck!"  
  
His voice shatters and splinters apart into nothing more than breathy grunts when Jared loses control completely, holding Jensen's ankles in the air and driving into him hard enough to mark the wall where the wooden headboard is battering against it.  
  
A dozen bed-breaking thrusts and Jared comes with a shout loud enough to drown out Jensen's wails. Fireworks blaze up his spine, exploding into blinding light behind his eyes. Hips snapping into Jensen until the very last of his orgasm has faded, he reaches down to jerk Jensen off to completion, only to find Jensen's cock softening in a mess of sticky come.  
  
Eyes flickering up to Jensen's face in awed disbelief, Jensen shrugs and looks almost bashful. "Well, you did tell me to come on your cock."  
  
"So... fucking... hot." Jared presses a shaky kiss against his lips, carefully lowering Jensen's trembling legs and pulling out of that delicious warmth despite his still hard dick's protestations that it's definitely up for round two. He grabs some tissues from the box beside the bed, roughly cleaning them both up before collapsing down on his back beside his fucked-out boyfriend.  
  
Husband, Jared thinks. He really needs to persuade Jensen to marry him.  
  
Hot, horny and loud Jensen very quickly turns into sleepy, cuddly Jensen as soon as he comes. It's something Jared finds adorable. Not that he's brave enough to voice that thought again. Pillowing his head against Jared's chest, Jensen tangles their legs together and wraps his arms around him, rubbing his cheek against the soft hair on Jared's chest as though he's snuggling a giant teddy bear. Adorable. Jensen's breath evens out quickly. Sleep luring him into its lair.  
  
Jared nuzzles against the soft spikes of Jensen's hair. "You know," he says quietly to the sleeping form of his blissed-out boyfriend. "If you marry me, you wouldn't have to work at all. You could stay here safe and secure and naked in bed and let me make love to you, until you never wanted to leave…ever."  
  
"You know," Jensen mumbles, unfortunately not quite as asleep as Jared thought he was. "The job in Somalia is still open."  
  
"I'll shut up," Jared says.  
  
"Although," Jensen continues with a jaw-clicking yawn. "Tomorrow if you want to keep me in bed all day and fuck me 'til I can't walk, I won't complain."  
  
Compromise, Jared thinks with a smile, compromise is the key to a sublimely happy relationship.  
  
  
 **The End - Thank you for reading!**  


 


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